Under Protection
by ilysia
Summary: A young warrior facing a foe he cannot defeat finds himself under the protection of a most unexpected defender.


**Disclaimer:** All belongs to Lewis and the Lewis Estate.  
**Author's Note:** A little break from the longer story, and a foray into a different part of the chronology.

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**Under Protection**

It took more strength of will than Lann had previously thought he possessed not to flee the moment the eyes lighted on him. And it was not just a single pair, though that would have been bad enough. Indeed, he was subject to the gaze of no less than a score of ravenous, glittering eyes. Swallowing convulsively, he instinctively stepped back into a fighting stance, his muscles tensing of their own accord and his heart beginning to race. He was trapped now; all routes of escape were cut off. There was no way out, a fact of which Lann was fully aware.

Though he wanted to do nothing more than flee, the warrior in him would not allow such shameful behavior, not even in the face of such a formidable foe. Reminding himself of who he was, of whom he served and why, he took a deep steadying breath and risked closing his eyes for long enough to gain his center. He had faced monsters and enemy soldiers and emerged alive- it might be that the Lion would guard his life against this most deadly foe, as he had against other foes in the past.

And if not, it had ever been said of the Lion's country that there one was eternally at peace. If that was so, and Lann did not survive this foray, then he would be content knowing that nevermore would his soul be troubled by such creatures as these.

With a heart and will newly strengthened, Lann, firstborn son of King Derinth and Crown Prince of Archenland, stepped down from the dais and into the crowd of eligible young noblewomen.

None of the ladies were so unaware of decorum as to touch the Crown Prince, but that small mercy made very little difference. The weight of their intentions and expectations made the airy hall as close and as unwelcome as a Troll's hole to Lann, and very nearly as distressing. Their predatory eyes watched him closely as he made the polite, customary bow to each of his father's guests. Beneath every lady's gentle murmurs of pleasure he could hear the scheming and plotting that would someday, inevitably, lead to his downfall.

Sliding gently away from the overzealous curtsying of one young lady, he cast a pleading look at his father, but received nothing more than a carefully raised brow in answer. His father, then, would be no help and Lannin, still in the nursery, was far too young to be of any assistance.

"Crown Prince," the soft voice said, and he returned with a start to the duty at hand. And it was a duty, he reminded himself sternly as he greeted the southern lord's niece. Just as protecting the border and riding to the King's needs were his duties, so too were the duties of knowing Court life; of greeting these ladies; of, one day, binding himself in marriage to a lady.

It was a grim thought; Lann was a warrior, not a courtier. By grace of having a doting father, he had spent the early years of his life learning swordsmanship and archery and riding, not politics or the art of wooing. He had no inclination towards schemes, no talent for the skillful twisting of words or people, and he was quite happy to keep it that way. Lann was in all ways the protector of his father's kingdom- the King's strong right hand and his most trusted general. He was brave, intelligent, fearless to a fault, and had the ability to inspire loyalty in all under his command.

And yet, on such an occasion as the formal dancing on the occasion of Yule, he was utterly and completely undone.

No more ladies came forward and he was startled to find that he had greeted every guest without ever being aware of it. Even more startling than his lack of attention was the fact that he must now choose a partner.

Lann thought that he would rather face a Dragon weaponless.

The sea of young ladies with their predatory eyes crowded closer and Lann had a sudden pang of sympathy for the fox, feeling that he must certainly know how the creature felt when surrounded by hounds. Surrounded, outnumbered, near to doom...

There was no lady here he knew better than any other, no childhood friend he could choose without impunity. Every choice would have repercussions; every dance would birth a thousand rumors of courtship and marriage contracts. No matter whom he chose, the rest would all be offended. It was a hopeless situation.

Just when he had begun to despair, soft fingers brushed across his shoulder.

Lann nearly jumped at the impropriety, but stopped himself when he saw who it was that had greeted him so. He bowed low. The lady smiled but made no move to return the politic gesture.

"Dance with me," she said, her voice low and commanding, ignoring the frowns and startled gasps of the other ladies. "Dance with me, Crown Prince."

"I can deny you nothing, my Lady."

He took her proffered hand in one of his own and rested his other in the small of her back. Inclining her head regally, she indicated her readiness and they swept off across the dance floor. The disappointed ladies fell back in droves.

The lady's golden-red hair flamed and, in the candlelight, Lann could barely see the strands of grey that were now far more prominent than they had been the last time they had met. Her steps were just as liquid smooth as they had always been, and her eyes sparkled with the same wit and humor that he remembered from his youth.

She caught him staring and laughed softly. Leaning closer so that her fiery hair brushed his shoulder and her lips were only inches from his ear, she whispered, "Let them make rumors of the Crown Prince and the Narnian lady old enough to be his mother, if they can."

"My Lady, not even the courtiers would dare do such a thing."

"No," she laughed again, straightening and smiling mischievously at him. "No, I did not think so."

Lann guided his partner into a gentle spin, thanking Aslan a thousand times over for giving him such an ally. Tonight he had escaped from the designs of the noble ladies and the Court. Tonight he was safe; thanks to the wit and the wicked humor of Narnia's fair queen.

Tonight, at least, Lann was content to be under the protection of Swanwhite of Narnia.


End file.
